
Class _:EA^M^.^ 

Book_ 

Copyright iN" 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



VERSES 



WRITTEN 



During a Busy Lawyer's Life 



BY 



WILLIAM TRIMBLE McCLINTICK 



4 



CHILLICOTHE, OHIO 

THE ALBERT SCROLL PRESS 

1902 






THE i.iShARY *F 
CGNGRcSS, 

Two COH-.fcS RtOEIVSB 

MAY. r 1902 

j.CO»VRI««T ENTRY 

CLASS f*^XXo. No. 
% U 14' / » 
COPY B. 



I <(^ ^ X 



COPYRIGHT, 1902, 
By WILLIAM T. McCLINTICK. 



PREFACE 

The verses contained in this little volume were written, not 
in the leisure of an idle or pleasure-seeking existence, but at in- 
tervals during their author's long and active career as a lawyer 
and man of business — the latter half of it more than ordinarily 
occupied with engrossing work in both lines. 

They are now collected and arranged by him after his re- 
tirement from the more active enterprises of his life, and are 
published in book form at the request of his family, and only 
for private distribution among his friends. 

The verses were written at various times during a period of 
more than sixty years, and including, as they do, a variety of 
subjects, may be said to indicate, in some degree at least, their 
author's moods and the tenor of his thoughts at the times of their 
composition. 

To his family the greater part of these verses have been 
familiar, and it is hoped, that now in this collected form, they 
may be of interest to his friends. 

Chillicothe, Ohio, February ist, 1902. 



to my wife 

Elizabeth Mary Atwood McClintick, 

With whom I have journeyed for over fifty-six years, 
this volume is lovingly dedicated, by her husband. 

William T. McClintick 



CONTENTS 



4 



A Winter Scene ..... 

Autumn . .... 

Cleopatra (Dying) ... 6 
Life . . . , . .13 

On the Tops of the Alleghanies — at Evening . 1 5 

Summer Friends at the Ocean Side . . 16 

New Found Friends ... 17 

The Adventure of a Night . . . 19 

Lake George ..... 24 

Rythm ..... 26 

A Seashore Landscape, and Song ... 29 

A Wife's Question and Answer . . 33 
Human Glory . . . . '37 

A Dream Within a Dream . . . 38 

To a Friend ..... 41 

To a Wife — After Absence . . 42 

The Crescent Moon and Evening Star . . 43 

Luray, Va. , at Evening and Its Caves . 44 
The Bell Buoy's Lament . . .47 

The Brooklet .... 50 

The Little Lady . . . . 52 

Human Life . , . . 54 

Moonlight on the Sea . . . 55 



CONTENTS— CONTINUED 



The Old Windmill at Nantucket 


56 


When My Ship Comes In 


58 


Thanksgiving 


61 


To My Wife 


63 


At Night by the Sea 


64 


An Evening Reverie 


67 


T'n Mi-" 


70 
72 


X KJ iVJ loo • • • 

One Hundred Years 


To , on Her June Birthday 


78 


The Horizon's Bound 


80 


Sabbath Morn . 


85 


My Life .... 


87 


We are Content — Evening 


88 


A Mother's Joy 


90 


My Father . . . . 


91 


Farewell .... 


93 


Moonlight — in the Country 


94 


Toil .... 


96 


An Octogenarian's Prayer 


97 


A Day at Harbor Point, Mich., 


99 


An Old Man's Retrospect 


101 


At Eighty Years 


lOZ 


Little Traverse Bay 


105 


The Burial . . . . 


107 


Poppies .... 


109 


Loss of Sight 


no 


The Storm .... 


IIZ 


Our Golden Wedding 


114 



VERSES 



A WINTER SCENE 

'TwAS cold and drear; for many a weary day 
The clouds had lowered o'er the frost bound 
earth; 

On fields and woods, on homes of men, no ray 
Of sunshine woke a song, or shout of mirth. 

But now, at eve, while nature sinks to rest, 
The bright sun lingers in the western sky. 

The drear earth smiles and with an eager zest. 
A blithe and joyous song sends up on high. 

We fancy summer's come again to wake 

To bloom and greenness, shrub and flower and 
leaf. 

Once more to garnish earth so cold, and make 
It smile, as if there were no room for grief. 



2 A WINTER SCENE 

Yon tall old tree reflecteth smiles as sweet, 
Yon rill laughs on as merry and as gay, 

As when in spring the lark flew up to meet 
The morn, and warble forth his matin lay. 

How strange the scene outspread before us now! 

This episode in winter's cheerless lay; 
'Tis like a gem upon an Ethiope's brow. 

Or like a smile on sorrow's face at play. 

We would not wonder at the darkened sky. 
The angry howling of the cold northwest, 

For these are winter's; but on this the eye 
As by a spell entranced, doth lingering rest. 

*Tis so deceiving e'en the birds that hide 

In some warm corner when the cold winds 
blow. 

Now venture forth on wing so long untried 
To bathe their plumage in the sunset glow. 



A WINTER SCENE 3 

List to their warbling, like an angel's tone 
It falleth softly on the enchanted ear, 

Sweet as the melodies that we have known 
In nightly dreams of Heaven's eternal year. 

The light hath faded, and the gathering night 
Her curtain o'er this lovely scene hath spread: 

But see! on high, unutterably bright. 

The stars their lovelier, purer, radiance shed. 

So may the day, the one that is our last. 
Close as serenely and as bright as this; 

And as death's dreary darkness gathers fast 
May gleams of light portend celestial bliss. 

Chillicothe, Ohio, January, 1840. 



AUTUMN 

Ah! the dreamy languor of these autumnal days, 
That gathers o'er the spirit as o'er the hills the 

haze; 
A weight that is not heavy, a gloom without a 

cloud, 
As if the air in solemn prayer upon the earth 

were bowed; 
A something wierd and holy, impalpable and dim 
Like the sound of far off music, or chaunt of 

funeral hymn. 

The air is still, across the fields I hear, it is so 

still. 
The distant brooklets murmur, and the grinding 

of the mill. 
More near, the hum of bees, and strange, as if 

apart. 
With seeming sense of farness, the beating of my 

heart: 
O dear! what longings hold me, yet what delicious 

calm. 
As if with sore disturbance, there came a soothing 

balm. 



AUTUMN 5 

All things near seem distant, the distant seems so 
near, 

The puzzle is to tell which is the there, or here: 

As well to time, as space, the pleasing witchery- 
spreads. 

And past time o'er the present its melancholy 
sheds 

A strange untold confusion doth fill the dizzy- 
brain 

With sweet and bitter fancies, a mingled joy and 
pain. 

Amid the silence of the trees there floats a leaf of 

gold: 
What parted it from parent stem, not any voice 

hath told. 
And while I watch its fall, another and another. 
Doth follow, leaf by leaf, to join their elder 

brother. 
In sweet companionship they fall, in circHng lines 

and slow. 
And gently rest upon the breast of mother earth 

below. 

Chillicothe, Ohio, October, 1856. 



CLEOPATRA (Dying) 



" Shall they hold me up 

And show me to the shouting varletry 
Of Centuring Rome ? 

Hast thou the worm of Nilus there 
That kills and pains not ? 

'T^ '1^ -K 'T^ 'l^ 'l^ 

Give me my robe. — Put on my crown: I have 
Immortal longings in me. 

Methinks I hear 
Anthony call." 

— Shakespeare. 



Bring my crown and royal vestments, 

Clothe me as on days of state, 
When Mark Anthony beside me 

Stood the seeming Lord of fate. 
When he 'gainst Octavius Caesar 

Bold defiance proudly hurled. 
When his strong right arm, uplifted, 

Blanched the cheek of half the world. 



CLEOPATRA (Dying) 

When he gave me states for dowry, 

Nor thought the gift was half my due; 
Phoenicia, Cyprus, Coelosyria, 

Garnishing my crown anew: 
When, in softer mood, he lavished 

Words of adoration sweet; 
Telling of his soul's devotion, 

Making woman's bliss complete. 

When, together at the banquet. 

Quaffing Rome's Falernian wine; 
With his burning eyes, resplendent. 

Gazing fondly into mine: 
Mine more fond, his gaze returning, 

Striving vainly to express 
Love's unconquerable passion. 

Voiceless, in its tenderness. 

Or, the banquet ended, hastening 

From its blaze of garish light. 
Walked we 'mid my palace gardens, 

Curtained by the wondrous night; 
Night, transparent, grandly glorious, 

Such as Egypt only knows; 
With the star-escorted Dian, 

Mirrored in the Nile's repose. 



CLEOPATRA (Dying) 

Then, upon my own proud galley, 

Yielding to the wave's caress; 
Charmed and ravished by the splendor 

Of the night's deep loveliness: 
Silent wrought the stalwart oarsmen. 

Silent shone the stars above. 
While the rippling water's music 

Rhymed the story of his love. 

All forgot the world's illusions. 

And the wideness of my fame. 
While I leaned upon his bosom, 

Heard him softly breathe my name. 
Egypt's queen, but queen no longer 

Of the realm within my breast. 
There, my Lord, held sway divinely, 

King was he of all possessed. 

But no more he bendeth o'er me. 

Calling me his star-eyed one; 
I am left in desolation. 

Fortune, kingdom, lover gone; 
Doomed to meet the wronged Octavia, 

In her Lord's deserted home; 
Doomed to swell the Caesar's triumph. 

Through the streets of regal Rome. 



CLEOPATRA (Dying) 

Shall the Caesar's base-born varlets, 

Shouting o'er me, mock my woe ? 
All the queenly blood within me, 

All the woman, answers, no ! 
Bring the worm of Nilus to me, 

Let it strike its painless blow. 
Marring neither form nor feature; 

Haste! Why wait I? Let me go. 

Thus with crown and jewels on me, 

Proudly as befits a queen, 
I shall leave my realm terrestial 

For the fairer realms unseen. 
1 shall join the grand Triumvir, 

Spring exultant to his side; 
With him trace the plain Elysian, 

In immortal bliss abide. 

Mine own hand the Aspic grasping, 

Bears it to my swelling breast; 
Now, its subtle power thrills me. 

Now, my weary heart shall rest. 
I sleep ! But no ! 'Tis Anthony ! 

Hark ! His clarion voice again ! 
Kiss me, Charmian, I am going, 

I shall wear no captive's chain. 

Chillicothe, Ohio, 1858. 



Note — It is proper to state that the foregoing was suggested by that 
charming piece of verse, written by General Wm. H. Lytle, of Cincinnati, 
published in the Cincinnati Commercial in July, 1858, and subsequently many 
times, in many papers of the country, entitled: 



"ANTHONY AND CLEOPATRA" 

And running thus: 

"1 AM dying, Egypt, dying!" 

Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast. 
And the dark Plutonian shadows 

Gather on the evening blast; 
Let thine arms, O queen, enfold me. 

Hush thy sobs and bow thine ear. 
Listen to the great heart secrets 

Thou, and thou alone, must hear. 

Though my scarred and veteran legions 

Bear their eagles high no more. 
And my wrecked and scattered galleys 

Strew dark Actium's fatal shore; 
Though no glittering guards surround me. 

Prompt to do their master's will, 
I must perish like a Roman, 

Die the great Triumver still. 



ANTHONY AND CLEOPATRA 

Let not Cssar's servile minions. 

Mock the lion thus laid low; 
'Twas no foeman's arm that felled him, 

'Twas his own that struck the blow — 
His who, pillowed on thy bosom. 

Turned aside from glory's ray — 
His who, drunk with thy caresses. 

Madly threw a world away. 

Should the base plebeian rabble 

Dare assail my name at Rome, 
Where the noble spouse, Octavia, 

Weeps within her widowed home. 
Seek her; say the gods bear witness, — 

Altars, augurs, circling wings, — 
That her blood, with mine commingled, 

Yet shall mount the thrones of kings. 

And for thee, star-eyed Egyptian — 

Glorious sorceress of the Nile! 
Light the path to Stygian horrors 

With the splendors of thy smile; 
Give the Cassar crowns and arches. 

Let his brow the laurel twine, 
I can scorn the senate's triumphs. 

Triumphing in love like thine. 



12 ANTHONY AND CLEOPATRA 

"I am dying, Egypt, dying;" 
Hark! the insulting foeman's cry; 

They are coming; quick, my falchion! 
Let me front them ere I die. 

Ah, no more amid the batde 
Shall my heart exulting swell; 

Isis and Osiris guard thee — 

Cleopatra, Rome, farewell!" 

Shortly after the first appearance of these verses, in 1858, 1 wrote my own 
verses, "Cleopatra (Dying)" — which I trust may not be considered an unfit 
companion for those of General Lytle. 

W. T. McC. 



LIFE 

Springing from the darksome mountain 

Sparkling as the diamond bright, 
Leaps the tiny streamlet onward 

Laughing in its wild delight: 
So, our childhood bright and joyous. 

Reckless of the coming strife, 
Jewelled as the dewey morning, 

Boundeth toward the sea of life. 

Now the brooklet through the meadows 

Murmurs to the zephyr's sigh. 
Till some frowning rock obstructs it. 

When it proudly dashes by; 
So our earlier youth proceedeth 

'Mid the pleasant ways of men. 
Still serenely, 'til some barrier 

Wakes its brief, yet proud disdain. 



1 4 LIFE 

Rippling o'er the beaten roadway 

Where the wheel and hoof abound, 
Or polluted by the drainage 

Of some dark and marshy ground; 
Sometimes ponderous mill-wheels turning, 

Then again in calm repose 
Ever onward toward the ocean 

Deeper still the river flows. 

So maturer years shall find us 

Broken, soiled, yet pressing on. 
Hoping, fearing, struggling, toiling, 

Duty's mill-work never done; 
Yet the soul with anxious longing, 

Rests not mid the daily strife 
'Til the golden gates of heaven, 

Shut us in to endless life. 

Chillicothe, Ohio, March 25, 1 86 1. 



ON THE TOPS OF THE ALLEGHE- 
NIES— AT EVENING. 

These mountain tops that in the distant view 

Are summits tall that pierce the skies deep blue, 

Here lie in slopes, or undulations low. 

Where fall the shadows which the clouds bestow, 

Masses of darkness sinking down to rest 

And spreading pall-like o'er the forest's breast; 

The slanting sunshine lights awhile the scene. 

Then slowly disappears, and so, serene. 

The noisy day is hushed to silent night. 

And slumber wraps alike the glade and height. 

Thus, in our life, drear steeps before us rise 

That seem to close our pathway to the skies; 

Yet bold, by struggling, we their heights ascend 

To find our toils 'mid restful valleys end: 

The peace of God, the joy that heaven bestows 

Falls on the soul and stills it to repose; 

Here rest my weary feet, earth-stained and sore. 

And gloomy fancy raise thy wand no more. 

Deer Park, Md., August 31, 1875. 



SUMMER FRIENDS, AT THE 
OCEAN SIDE 

Our new-met friends — they come, they go, 
Like fitful dreams of summer's night; 

With radiant joy their faces glow, 

Our hearts respond with glad delight: 

With morn, the fitful vision ends, 

With morn there comes th' accustomed lot; 
So pass away our summer friends, 

Alike forgetting and forgot. 

But as in dreams some forms are seen 
That linger with the opening day 

To link our souls with what has been 
And drive life's weariness away. 

So when we leave this ocean shore 

And break this dream of summer rest, 

Shall we not bear for evermore 

Some imprint deep within the breast; 

Some memory ne'er to be eflfaced 

'Mid all the changes time shall bring; 

Some record on the spirit traced. 
Emblem of life's eternal spring. 

Atlantic City, August, 1876. 



NEW FOUND FRIENDS 

We dwell, brief time, mid mountain heights, 
And then, where phosphorescent lights 

Dance o'er the moonlit sea; 
And everywhere new faces bright 
Do greet us with a friendly light, 

And cordial sympathy. 

They come, they go — how swift, alas ! 
The faces, like sweet visions, pass 

As if no more to bless; 
Our lives move on, our earth-born lot 
Seems still the same, and only fraught 

With labor and distress. 

But as in dreams — some forms remain 
When night is gone to ease the pain 

That comes wiih opening day. 
So when our summer's rest is o'er. 
And from the mountain, or the shore, 

We take our homeward way, 



1 8 NEW FOUND FRIENDS 

Shall not some dear remembered face, 
Some charmed word — some special grace. 

That marked love's wakening — 
Go with us still, and new found friends 
Be ours, till e'en life's journey ends, 

Of joy, the constant spring ? 

August, 1876 



THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT. 

One night three guests a rest had found 

In famous New York town; 
At Hotel Brunswick they were lodged, 

A house of wide renown. 

'Twas after midnight's dreary hour 
These guests to bed repaired. 

And soon a sleep, profoundly deep, 
Their weary bodies shared. 

To man and wife one room was given, 

Of ample size I ween; 
The friend, a neighboring chamber held, 

With opening door between. 

The triple gods that rule the night, 
Nox, Somnus, Morpheus, all 

Conspired to seal their heavy eyes 
In slumber's darkest pall. 



20 THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT 

Alas! that joy so soon should fly! 

For at their window pane 
It seemed a furious maniac stood 

Who swore with might and main. 

Up jumped the husband, quick as thought, 

With night shirt only on, 
And to the window bravely ran; 

But there before him drawn. 

He saw, or seemed to see, himself 

In attitude for fight; 
Weight matched with weight, and shirt with shirt. 

The garment of the night. 

But when he heard the frightful oaths 

That issued from without, 
He caught the sash and held it down, 

And turned his face about. 

"Run for your life, dear wife," he cried 

("It is a maniac tall") 
"Into our neighbors room, be quick! 

While I the watchman call." 



THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT : 

Forthwith she ran, as she was told, 
The neighbor now was dazed 

By such a sight, as half awake 
He still in wonder gazed. 

But she with native modesty 

Held forth her fair white hands, 

And said, "pray me excuse, I come 
Because my Lord commands." 

But soon she turned, "Oh, pray," she said, 
"There comes that horrid man 

Right through your open window wide," 
And then, in fright, she ran 

Behind the bed, where shivering 

In agony of dread. 
She hid behind a pillow soft. 

Held high above her head. 

The friend thus sought at once rushed forth 

To meet the fearful foe; 
But at the window stopped to think 

What he, poor man ! could do. 



THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT 

For he like all the rest was clad 

In Georgia costume spare, 
Without the spurs: an unfit dress, 

For ladies' eyes to share. 

But little time for thought had he 

As fierce the maniac glared 
With blood-shot eyes and hands up-raised; 

You'd thought our friend was scared. 

A lawyer was he, so he used 

His wits on this occasion, 
And as no weapon could be found, 

He thought he'd try persuasion. 

"My friend," said he, "don't try to come 

With your unfriendly face 
And half-dressed form, for ladies are 

Within this sacred place." 

"What ladies ?" shrieked the man, in haste. 

Our friend was in a mix; 
What answer could he make, indeed 

In such a devilish fix ? 



THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT 23 

He could not say, his wife^ for sooth, 

For that would not be true. 
And yet to tell the unvarnished truth 

He thought would never do. 

But luck was on his side; the man 

Another question raised, 
"My good friend, Bishop, are you here 

Oh let the Lord be praised !" 

The watchman came, and by his aid 
The man's own room was found; 

Where sitting down he seemed to wake 
From drunken sleep profound. 

And then, at first, in careless mood, 

"Why all this fuss ?" he said; 
But soon, o'erwhelmed, he turned again, 

With shame unto his bed. 

The dame unto her lord returned, 

The friend laid down to rest; 
And soon, in sleep, all thought of harm 

Was gone from ev'ry breast. 

New York, 1877. 



LAKE GEORGE 

I float among thy hundred Isles, 
I see thy wavelets break in smiles 

Along thy curving shore; 
About thy sides tall mountains rise, 
Beneath thy waters arching skies 
Are mirrored ever-more. 

I sit on calm Mohican pier; 
Around me, or remote, or near. 

Familiar objects lie; 
Green Island, Dome, Recluse, and Clay, 
Th' encircling shores of Nor' West Bay, 

Successive, meet the eye: 

Beyond, old Black Top rears his head, 
While Shelving Rock, as if in dread, 

Lies prone beneath his feet; 
More near. Tongue Mountain stretches long 
And slakes his thirst amid the throng 

Of limpid waters sweet. 



LAKE GEORGE zj 

And south, with woods and rocks embossed, 
The hills are in the distance lost, 

Dim with enshrouding haze: 
Between, the waters, dark, or bright, 
Uneasy with a fitful light 

As cloud, or sunshine, stays. 

Amid such scenes I can but dream. 
The past and present strangely seem 

To be nor here, nor there; 
Entranced I lie beneath the trees 
And listen to the whispering breeze 

Indite its silent prayer. 

A prayer for all whose lives repeat 
In winter's cold and summer's heat 

The same dull round of care 
In cities, from the world shut in. 
To hear alone the noise and din 

Of labor everywhere. 

For these I crave the priv'lege rare 
Which nature here, on lake, in air. 

And land, doth give so plenteously 
What more, indeed, can heart desire 
Than morning brings, or sunset's fire, 

To all with eyes to see. 

Lake George, August, 1879. 



RYTHM 

Nature loves a rythmic motion; 

From the fields of waving grain 
To the wild tumultuous ocean, 

Moaning with its ceaseless pain: 
From the bird, with spreading pinion 

Floating 'neath the summer sky, 
To the waving forest's branches 

As the winds among them sigh. 

All of nature's voices vary 

With a sort of rythmic flow. 
From the thunder's fierce vagary 

To the zephyr's breathing low. 
Not a sound but keepeth measure 

With the throbbing human breast, 
Whether pain, or whether pleasure. 

Be the sad or welcome guest. 



RYTHM 27 

'Mid the shade of verdant forests 

Where the brooklet sings its song 
Over rocks, or pebbly bottoms, 

Still the measure floats along; 
Air and water, break together 

In alternate waves of sound 
'Tis the lullaby of nature 

By her weary children found. 

List the music, softer, lower, 

Near by, yet so distant seeming; 
Coming, going, faster, slower, 

As if my soul were dreaming; 
Hear the sound of dancing feet 

Unto the measure gliding; 
List the strain, so low and sweet — 

'Tis in my ear abiding. 

All things through the circling ages 

With a varying motion flit. 
Backward, forward, so the pages 

Of our changeful lives are writ. 
Nature, patient, like a mother. 

Strives with song to soothe the pain 
Of our struggling souls endeavor 

Something better to obtain. 



28 RYTHM 

Grandly solemn is the measure 

When the silence of the night 
Swings its tremulous pendulum 

O'er the world of vanished light; 
Swings from ocean back to ocean, 

With its center in the stars. 
Who can span the vast vibration ? 

Who can mark its wondrous bars ? 

Over cities, mountains, valleys. 

O'er the wideness of the sea. 
O'er the busy noisy nations, 

Voiceless in its majesty ! 
Voiceless, to our outward hearing 

Yet the spirit's subtlety 
With its inward ear may hear it 

Syllable "eternity." 

Cincinnati, 1880. 



A SEASHORE LANDSCAPE, 
AND SONG 

I SIT on Cape Arundel's rocks to view 

The landscape old, and yet 'tis ever new; 

The seething waters ceaseless madly pour 

Their white capped breakers on the unyielding 

shore. 
Afar, the mountains clad in vesture gray 
Sleep in the shadows of the closing day. 
Save where the sun its westering pathway treads 
And over all a golden glory spreads. 
Near by, Old Agamenticus serene. 
Rears his long form amid his fetters green; 
There, the Three Sisters, lift their towering crests, 
Here, the wide plain in summer brightness rests, 
While arching all, the lambent clouds expand 
To join the changeful sky, to steadfast land. 
In one long sweep the curving bay extends 
Lit with the splendor which the sunset lends; 
The clouds, the sea, the land, are all aglow 
With wondrous beauty, and the radiant show 



30 A SEASHORE LANDSCAPE, AND SONG 

Draws the dull soul from out this earth-born clod 
To claim its kinship with th' all loving God. 
Amid this scene I sit and dream alone, 
And bend my ear to hear th' eternal moan 
The sea gives forth, as if some grief profound, 
Like human woe, had sought relief in sound. 
The murm'ring waves bring to my weary breast, 
A sense of fellowship and blissful rest. 
I left mine eyes, — a home returning sail 
Spreads its fair bosom to the favoring gale. 
The tossing waves with multitud'nous voice, 
Cry to the saddened soul, Rejoice 1 Rejoice ! 
Earth is so beautiful and love so strong 
The weariest heart can but respond in song. 
Again, I lift mine eyes — the sheltered bay 
Hath lost the brightness of the earlier day: 
The cold gray waters slumber peacefully. 
As if the tide itself had ceased to be. 
Before me floats a boat — its oars up-held. 
But motionless — their upward stay compelled 
By some strange charm. Within, two forms are 

bent. 
One toward the other leaning, each intent 
On other, — lost to all besides. I sing 
This song to them, and thus my tribute bring: 



A SEASHORE LANDSCAPE, AND SONG 31 

Rock gently boat, on bay serene, 
The youth and maiden dimly seen 

Within thy narrow bound. 
Oh lazy oars, expectant, wait. 
As these two weave the web of fate 

In love's mysterious round. 

From heart to heart the thread speeds on. 
These two, indissolubly, one. 

Whatever else may sever; 
For life, for death ! Oh joy untold ! 
What treasures shall their lives unfold 

'Tis "mine and thine" forever. 

The sight long vanished visions bring. 
As memory backward strikes its wing 

Athwart the years long gone. 
In slow procession strange and bright. 
They come, in warmer, lovelier light 

Than marked the setting sun. 

All the dear forms that blest my youth 
With hope and counsel, love and truth. 

Are with me once again. 
Forgot the load I daily bear, 
The heavy cross, the carking care. 

The long dark years of pain. 



32 A SEASHORE LANDSCAPE, AND SONG 

One fair, sweet face, so loving sweet, 
One angel form whose dainty feet 

Scarce seem to touch the land. 
With out-stretched arms, up-lifted eyes 
Calls me away, — with glad surprise 

I touch her beckoning hand. 

Alas ! that touch dissolves the charm. 
Gone is the face, and out-stretched arm: 

Back to the earth I fall. 
Soul, bide thy time, — 'tis not for thee 
Amid the fight to turn and flee 

Wait th' Omniscient's call. 

Till then, my soul, uphold the right, 
Against all evil strike with might. 

Until the victory's won: 
But night is here, yon dripping oar 
Strikes boldy for the dark'ning shore, 

My sweet, sad dream is done. 

Kinnebunkport, Maine, August 6th, 1883. 



A WIFE'S QUESTION AND ANSWER 

A husband and wife whose children had grown up and separated from 
them, were left to complete the journey of life together. The thought of 
death came to them as it comes to all. They knew that in the ordinary 
course of nature one would die first. In reading their daily lesson from the 
Scriptures the wife was impressed by the words, "one shall be taken and the 
other left," when she asked and answered: 

Which shall it be ? 
Let it be me: 
I fain would be the first to stand 
Within the dim and shadowy land 

That lies before; 
To find some island of the blest, 
Some spot where loving souls may rest — 
And part no more. 

Within that home by Him prepared; 
For all who here His image shared; 

Dear precious boon ! 
I'll watch the opening of the gate, 
With glad anticipation wait 

Thy coming soon. 



34 A WIFE'S QUESTION AND ANSWER 

A woman's faith is stronger far 

Than man's. Let me be guiding star, 

A beacon bright, 
To lure thee to our better home, 
Illume the path my steps have come 

With heaven's own light. 

Which shall it be ? 
It may be thee ! 
How could I live, and thou not here ? 
Thou, who, when sorrow caused the tear 

To dim mine eye, 
Didst stop its flow with soft caress 
And voice of gentlest tenderness; 
My lullaby. 

Life without thee ! accursed of fate ! 
The earth so cold, so desolate, 

My prayer would be 
A constant sigh to break the spell 
That binds me here, and go to dwell 

Once more with thee. 



A WIFE'S QUESTION AND ANSWER 35 

So strong art thou. Hope unto thee 
Assures the palm of victory 

By conquering faith, 
1, without thee, could only moan 
My saddened life, alone, — alone ! 

Wishing for death. 



Perchance, there yet is work for thee; 
Some soul to raise, some destiny 

As yet unknown; 
Some wrong to right, some slave to free, 
Some fight for country's liberty, 

The patriot's crown. 



Be mine the fate 
For thee to wait. 
No mortal vision yet hath seen 
The coming day, but faith takes in 

The landscape fair. 
Amid such skies I could not grieve; 
No earthly heart can e'er conceive 
How bright they are. 



36 A WIFE'S QUESTION AND ANSWER 

When I was young and heart was strong 
My heaven was home, to it I clung 

With fond delight; 
If thou wert absent, I for thee 
Would watch and wait impatiently 

To greet thy sight. 

Once more I'll stand at heaven's gate 
In sweet expectancy — I'll wait 

To hear thy voice. 
Assured thy coming can't be far. 
The gate will ever stand ajar — 

At this rejoice. 

In that fair land 
We both shall stand. 
Clothed in immortal youth, and bright 
With joy, where paths of holy light 

In bliss extend. 
Glad that our struggling and our sorrow 
Hath brought us both this sweet to-morrow 
That ne'er shall end. 

Cincinnati, O., April, 1884. 



HUMAN GLORY 

Pray what is human glory ? 'Tis to wield 

The magic wand, that stifles every cry: 
To stand on battle-ship or battle-field, 

And bid men die, nor ask the reason why. 
To know that men for us will do, or dare, 

Men, whom we know not, do not care to know 
But who for us will shout and rend the air. 

And fearless rush upon th' opposing foe. 

Warm Springs, Va., August, 1888. 



A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM 

Oh ! sleep with poppies strow mine eyes 
Their weary lids shut down; 

Fill all my frame with lethargies. 
Put on my head thy crown. 

If dreams shall come, as come they may. 
Make them of landscapes green, 

Where woods and meadows, lambs at play, 
And running streams are seen. 

Thus wishing, — softly came a lull 

Upon my wakeful mind; 
I seemed to sleep, so calm and full, 

My thoughts, — they wandered uncon- 
fined. 



A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM 39 

I saw tall mountains far appear 

And in the distance glow 
With sunset hues so bright and clear 

Amid their tops of snow. 

In middle distance placed, — a mill, 

So old, one feared to tread 
Its floors, — its grinding wheels were still: 

The miller, long since dead. 

And in the foreground, seemed to be 

A vine-clad cottage sweet; 
With children full of mirth and glee 

About their mother's feet. 

She sat outside the cottage door 
And waited (while she sings) 

Her husband's coming, and the store 
Of joy his presence brings. 

Near by, a streamlet's waters fed 
By unseen springs and clear, 

Was rippling o'er its pebbly bed, — 
It ravished my dull ear. 



40 A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM 

And while I gazed upon this scene 
And drank its spirit deep, 

The sunset faded — all serene 

And darkness gave me sleep. 

It was a dream — within a dream, 
It brought relief from pain: 

From it I woke with morning's beam. 
Refreshed and strong again. 

Albion Place, Feb. 7th, 1889. 



TO A FRIEND 

To one true heart, my love I gave, 

Forever there to stay: 
My troth I've kept, not as a slave 

But as a true man may. 

But friendship hath a wider bound 

To add to life new zest. 
There, some choice spirits I have found 

And you — among the best. 



TO A WIFE— AFTER ABSENCE 

O JOY ! to meet thee once again, 
To clasp thy hand in mine, 

Once more to feel surcease of pain 
Beneath that smile of thine. 

Once more to hear thy voice; to see 
The light of thy dear eyes; 

To be alone, once more, with thee, — 
This, this is paradise. 



1889 



THE CRESCENT MOON AND 
EVENING STAR 

Upon the lake we lie spell-bound; 

The night with beauty rare 
Bedecks the earth; nor voice nor sound 

Disturbs the breathless air. 

Our oars are still, and silence reigns 
All o'er the water's breast, 

The stars from out the sky look down, 
The new moon skirts the west; 

And by its side the evening star 

Sits placid and serene; 
Nor can we say which of the two 
We'll choose for night's fair queen. 

Both sit supreme, enthroned on high, 
Both seem from earth so far, 

That either might the sovereign be. 
The crescent, or the star. 

Hot Springs, N. C, April agfh, 1889. 



LURAY, VA. AT EVENING AND 
ITS CAVES 

On Luray's hills there stands serene 

A charming modern inn, 
In Queen Anne style, and there I ween 

Sweet rest is found within. 

Beneath its tower, remote and near, 

A noble landscape lies; 
And over head, cloud-flecked, or clear, 

The opal colored skies. 

The Blue Ridge, eastward, lays its length 

Against a bank of cloud: 
And as the sun abates its strength. 

Puts on a purple shroud. 



LURAY, VA. AT EVENING AND ITS CAVES 45 

The weakening sun, with lessened light, 

With steady pace declines. 
While Massanutten's wooded height 

In sun-set radiance shines. 

So fades the day, and comes the night 
With moon and stars o'er head; 

And mount and vale are clothed with light. 
In silver softness shed. 

We turn to meet another sight 

Within the cavern's maze; 
A thousand wonders strange and bright 

Entrance th' astonished gaze. 

Here stalactite and stalagmite 

Unite in wierd design. 
And grotesque forms, in snowy white. 

In light electric shine. 

Here reason cold asserts no claim. 

And fancy wild and keen. 
While giving every shape a name. 

Runs riot o'er the scene. 



46 LURAY, VA. AT EVENING AND ITS CAVES 

Old Pluto, here his chasm holds: 

Titania's veil conceals 
Some shadowy form beneath its folds, 

Or only half reveals. 

Whate'er in classic lore we know, 
Whate'er in dreams we see, 

Here finds a form and seems to glow, 
With strange reality. 

And now we leave this wonderland 
And turn to earth again; 

O memory ! let thy faithful hand. 
Still keep the record plain 

Of what we saw at famed Luray: 
And blest, beyond compare. 

The eyes that there, by night or day. 
Take in the vision rare. 

September 1889. 



THE BELL BUOY'S LAMENT 

I TOLL for thousands drowned 
Out in the depths profound; 
I toll for thousands more 
Who sank near by the shore; 
In sight of out-stretched hand, 
With feet just touching th' sand, 
Almost saved, — but the tide 
Swept out, — alas ! they died. 

I toll for th' wrecks that be 
On th' coast of many a sea. 
Whose strong ribs bleached and white 
Gleam in the moon's wan light. 
While waves in frenzy roar 
Against the shelving shore. 
And o'er the timbers bare 
Break foaming in the air. 



48 THE BELL BOUY'S LAMENT 

Above my watery bed 
Flit specters of the dead; 
As back and forth they go, 
My tongue with motion slow 
Doth strike my brazen rim 
To wake the funeral hymn 
I evermore must sing, 
Alike for slave and king. 

For sailors rough and bold, 
For merchants rich in gold; 
For youth and childhood fair, 
And age, all bent with care: 
For bridegroom and his bride. 
The matron in her pride: 
For all the lost at sea 
My sad lament must be. 

For all whose bones do sleep 

In th' bosom of the deep; 

Where coral reefs abound. 

Or sea-weed wraps them round. 

Where'er the drowned may be. 

In deep or shallow sea, 

For all my wail is heard. 

Clang ! clang ! so strange and wierd. 



THE BELL BUOY'S LAMENT 49 

In th' dawn's uncertain light, 
In th' darkness of the night, 
In howHng storm or calm, 
Is heard my solemn psalm. 
Over the waves, my moan 
Floats like a dying groan. 
Woe ! woe ! is the dirge I sing 
As here I toss and swing. 

Watch Hill, R. I., July 31st. 1890. 



THE BROOKLET 

This brook that from a single spring 
Doth rise, and then flows murmuring 
O'er pebbled bed, amid the trees. 
Close sheltered from the louder breeze, 
Whose margin is with cresses spread 
With elm and hawthorn over head. 
Its own song sings, so loving sweet, 
I bend mine ear the sound to greet. 

And while I listen as I lean, 

From shaded wood to pastures green 

It goes, where here and there, a tree 

Shall shelter from the rain, or be 

On brighter days, a safe retreat 

At noon-tide hour, from sweltering heat; 

It finds its way, meandering slow. 

As if it knew not where to go. 



THE BROOKLET 51 

At length it strikes a gallant oak 
One-half its roots have felt the stroke, 
And now exposed, denuded, bare, 
They struggle outward in the air, 
Above a basin small and round 
Where voice of singing brook is drowned; 
It eddys noiseless, 'round about, 
Then with a sigh it passes out. 

Again, it takes its tuneful note 
And wanders on to vales remote. 
It minds me of a song once set 
By Bryant's pen, "The Riverlet." 
Dear to my heart from youth to age 
Is that sweet song, I turn its page. 
And sigh to think the hour is near 
When I shall leave the haunts so dear, 
"And come for the last time to look 
Upon my childhood's favorite brook." 

September, 1890. 



THE LITTLE LADY (Mrs. McG.) 

I KNOW a little lady bright 
With something of celestial light; 
Her face arrayed in smiles, I see, 
Her motions graced with courtesy; 
Her eyes, the tint of skies serene, 
Her lips, the busiest ever seen. 
Start not, I pray, in vague alarm, 
For talking is her greatest charm. 
Some words that ripple from her tongue 
Are soft as those by Syrens sung — 
So winning that I turn my ear 
And wish that I might always hear; 
And some, with wit and humor shine. 
As polished gems from India's mine; 



THE LITTLE LADY (Mrs. McG.) 53 

And some with sweet pathetic grace, 
With touch of pity in her face, 
Give comfort to the broken heart, 
And take from grief its bitter smart. 
But if you chance, by some ill fate 
T' incur this little woman's hate. 
Ah! who can tell the venomed spite 
That flashes from her eyes so bright, 
Or hisses in the words that fall 
Upon the head that roused her gall. 

Warm Sulphur Springs, Va., October, 1890. 



HUMAN LIKE 

O TANGLED thread of poverty and grief! 
O labyrinth of woe, without relief! 
Is there no hope ? but only wan despair, 
Perpetual struggle and eternal war ? 

Sad one be still. Give up the useless fight. 
Let Christ be heard, He says, "I am the light." 
Come sit and learn, be as a little child 
And hear the voice of Jesus reconciled. 

Thus hope shall rise within thy saddened breast, 
And joy shall come to be thy constant guest; 
Thy troubled heart with all the world at peace, 
Shall dwell with him in love, thy struggles cease. 

1890. 



MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA 

The moonbeams stretch a glimmering track 

Of glory on the sea; 
The sea with smiles doth answer back 

In trembling ecstacy. 

The stars are few, a wide expanse 
Surrounds the queen of night; 

Beneath, the wavelets leap and dance 
A tournament of light. 

One influence sweet doth compass round 

Alike the heavens and sea 
Each clasping each, like lovers bound 

In speechless sympathy. 

1890. 



THE OLD WINDMILL AT 
NANTUCKET 

A RICKETY, old and picturesque mill 

Yet stands on the top of Nantucket hill. 

Its four long arms which once whirled in the air 

Hang motionless now, as if bowed in despair. 

The long mast which stretched from th' top to 

the ground 
And there was made fast to a wheel that went 

round 
And was used to make the crown of the mill 
Revolve, thus catching the wind at its will, 
Whether northward, or southward, eastward or 

west. 
Still keeps its place, but the wheel is at rest. 
A pair of good grind stones, meant to replace 
The old ones, worn out, lie flat on their face, 
Idly and prone, with their iron-bound rim 
Once bright in the sun now rusty and dim. 
They will never be used. Alas ! for the day 
When the mill first showed the signs of decay. 
The owner was old, like th' mill, and as slow, 
The grist was small, the tolls meagerly low; 



THE OLD WINDMILL AT NANTUCKET 57 

For year by year, less and less land was tilled. 
And new ways found by which pockets were filled. 
The old man bothered his slow working brain 
To find some way his lost tolls to regain. 
Meanwhile his isle unexpectedly rose 
To be famous for pleasure, or quiet repose; 
Some came to catch fish, and some came to sail. 
And some for their health; but all, without fail 
In passing the windmill lifted their eyes 
And gazed as if struck with sudden surprise. 
"I have it," the old man cried with delight, 
As one morn he waked from the dreams of th' 

night. 
"The mast shall still lift itself high in th' air, 
The long arms swing from its top grim and bare, 
The stones still lie on the ground, and I'll be 
A watch on tourists that visit the sea. 
The ruins a tribute shall bring to my store 
That shall equal the tolls I gathered of yore." 
From that day to this the gazers have found 
It is not grain, but themselves, that are ground. 
And the miller ! happy man, be his dole. 
Takes in their dimes as legitimate toll. 

Nantucket, R. I., 1 89 1. 



WHEN MY SHIP COMES IN 

We all have ships that are sailing 
Before some favoring breeze, 

Which gather from summer islands 
The riches of far-off seas. 

Brave hope is the jolly commander 
And fancy peoples the yards 

With a crew as skillful and stalwart 
As was ever sung by the bards. 

In the dark, as I lay dreaming, 
My ship I saw on the sea. 

With sails full set, and coming 
Right onward — coming to me. 



WHEN MY SHIP COMES IN 59 

She's coming ! she's coming ! I know it 
For the winds are blowing my way, 

As I sit at the head of the harbor, 
To look out over the bay. 

She's laden with fruit from the tropics. 
And gold from Australia's sand, 

Rich silks from the looms of Europe, 
And fabrics from every land. 

What shall I do with the treasure 

My ship is bringing to me ? 
If 1 find a garner to hold it. 

Ah ! where shall I keep the key ? 

No nook but some thief may find it. 

No lock so cunningly formed 
That cannot be picked or broken; 

No castle that may not be stormed. 

Away with my fears so foolish, 
The treasure my ship doth bring 

Is not for hoarding, nor hiding. 
But to make the sad heart sing. 



6o WHEN MY SHIP COMES IN 

The poor, that always are with us, 
The sick that languish in pain, 

The blind and the deaf and the dumb ones, 
Shall share all the pleasure I gain. 

But the ship! mine eyes have grown weary 
With watching out over the deep; 

Perhaps she'll come in the morning. 
Oh, weary eyes, rest now in sleep. 

Chillicothe, Ohio, i8q2. 



THANKSGIVING 

Give thanks! for friends of kindred taste 
True to the core — not double faced; 
Who do not see, or patient bear, 
The faults that somehow all must share. 

Give thanks ! for children and for wife 
That yet are spared to sweeten life; 
Whose faithful care and loving eyes 
Make home an earthly paradise. 

Give thanks ! for loved ones gone before 
To wean us from this earthly shore; 
To fix my heart, O joyful rest! 
On Christ, Redeemer, Savior, blest. 



62 THANKSGIVING 

Give thanks ! for days that seem not old, 
Though three score years and ten are told; 
Which find in nature all the joy 
That once possessed the stalwart boy. 

Give thanks ! for eyes a little blind, 
Which see not slights, tho' ill designed; 
Nor note the frowns that on us fall — 
While love's sweet halo covers all. 

Give thanks ! for what St. Peter saw 
When fettered much by custom's law; 
That "great white sheet," as naught else can. 
Proclaims the brotherhood of man. 

Give thanks! for all the lessons taught. 
By our dear Lord, with mercy fraught. 
And in our lives, this truth be seen, 
"What God hath cleansed call not unclean." 

Thanksgiving Day, November, 1892. 



TO MY WIFE 

(with a diamond and sapphire ring) 

Full two score years and seven have gone 
Since on my hand, by thine, was placed 

A pledge of love's unbroken zone — 
Of joys to come, the glad foretaste. 

Within its magic circle writ. 

Two names were joined as if in one — 
My name and thine, an index fit 

To show the path we both have run. 

And now, dear one, another ring 

Where two rare stones serenely shine, 

With recollection fond I bring 

To grace the hand that gave me mine. 

The brighter stone doth emblem thee; 

The darker, my dear love, doth show; 
So may thy life the brighter be 

And my poor love the warmer glow. 

Christmas, 1892. 



AT NIGHT, BY THE SEA 

This grey and shimmering plain 
Beneath the pale moon's reign, 

Doth spread afar. 
Toward the horizon's rim 
Where stands remote and dim 

A seeming bar: 

A bar to straining sight 

That fain would pierce the night 

That lies beyond. 
But that far line of haze 
Responds not to my gaze, 

However fond. 

But still I know fair lands 
Are there. Brittania stands 

In might supreme. 
And Italy's fair skies 
Unbidden 'round me rise 
In beauteous dream. 



AT NIGHT, BY THE SEA 65 

The Alpine heights I scale, 
Cities and States unveil; 

I see the Rhine, 
All that Childe-Harrold saw; 
And inspiration draw 

Almost divine. 

By the Danube and the Po, 
Maggiore and Como, 

I restless move; 
Geneva's lake is still, 
On it I float at will. 

And dream of love. 

The Isles of Greece, I greet. 
Where wavelets wash the feet 

Of Marathon. 
The groves where Plato walked. 
Mars Hill, where St. Paul talked; 

The Parthenon. 

All States in Europe lie 
Beneath my inward eye. 

And Asia stands 
Outstretched to reach the seas, 
Where sweeps the torrid breeze 

From Afric's sands. 



66 AT NIGHT, BY THE SEA 

And over all the sky, 
'An ocean hung on high.* 

The Pleiades 
Are there, as here, and glow 
With lustrious light, as tho' 

This side the seas. 

And Constellations rise 
Unknown to northern skies. 

Serenely bright 
The Southern Cross doth shine. 
Its sister stars combine 

T' enhance the sight. 

I sit and dream, and sings 
My soul, while fancy brings 

Before mine eye. 
The wealth of land and main, 
And joy, doth pour like rain 

From out the sky. 

Bay Head, N. J., September, 1893. 



AN EVENING REVERIE 

Betwixt the sea and narrow bay, 
Lies a low neck of barren sand. 

On which at eve I while away 

One brief, pale hour, by twilight spanned. 

I watch the distant mists down-shed 
Upon the horizon's circling rim; 

The nearer shadows, 'round me spread, 
Make all things seem remote and dim. 

White sands, mid herbage scant and low, 
Seem snow-drifts 'neath a wint'ry sky. 

While summer airs around me blow 
A softly murmuring lullaby. 



68 AN EVENING REVERIE 

Here the sea's tides advance, retreat, 
With rise and fall forevermore, 

In endless prolongation beat 

Their wild tattoo upon the shore. 

And there the bay, in silence bides 
The coming of the western breeze. 

Unruffled by the gentle tides 

That mark its kinship with the seas. 

One lonely light, how like a star! 

Streams out from off an anchored bark. 
And throws its radiance from afar 

To meet my gaze. All else is dark. 

And over head, the stars we love, 
So firmly fixed, so mildly clear. 

In silent, slow procession move. 

As they have done from year to year. 

While thus I muse, I seem to stand 
Upon a narrow hand-breadth space; 

With youth and age on either hand. 

Whose bounds with tender eyes I trace. 



AN EVENING REVERIE 69 

Once more, I feel with fancy's might 
The hopes that set my soul aflame, 

Ambitions, aspirations bright, 

The victor's crown, a deathless name. 

The vision fades; another light 

Dawns on my soul, and glim'ring far, 

Above the darkness of the night 
There shines a still serener star. 

And now I know this flight of years, 
Hath some remuneration brought. 

Through toil and pain, through hopes and fears, 
A store of ampler, loftier thought. 

And longings strong, unlike the old. 
To part full soon this earthly chain. 

To tread the blissful streets that hold 
The loved and lost, but found again. 

Bay Head, N. J., August, 1894. 



TO MISS 

(On Her Seventeenth Birthday) 

All hail the day that gave thee birth 
And names thee "Seventeen;" 

No words of mine express the worth 
Of thee, the day's fair queen. 

The woods put on a greener hue, 
The flowers a fragrance rare. 

The grass doth sparkle with the dew; 
O day! divinely fair. 

The waters show a deeper blue. 
The winds blow soft and free; 

Could Nature to itself be true. 
Without some gift to thee? 



TO MISS 71 

The fairies come with unseen wings, 

From far across the sea 
To touch thy heart's pure quivering strings 

And wake its minstrelsy. 

Thy many friends a wreath entwine, 

To crown thy Hfe with joy; 
A wish — that all thy days may shine 

Like this, without alloy. 

Bay Head, N. J., 1895. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS 

(The Pioneers' Arrival at Station Prairie, below Chillicothe, April ist, 1796) 

The sun awoke on that glad day with rays 
Effulgent. Early spring brought songs of praise 
From red-bud, dogwood, and the thousand flowers 
That grace the woods and prairie. Early showers 
Gave throb and impulse to the flowing stream; 
The distant hills, anew gave back the gleam 
Of sunshine, and sparkling dew, new born, 
Flashed forth a welcome to the coming morn. 
Near by, the prairie small, in beauty spread. 
So bright, it seemed by streams of splendor fed; 
A second Eden, with unstinted joy 
For these adventurous souls. Without alloy 
Their praise arose, as led by Finley's voice 
All hearts burst forth in song, "Rejoice! rejoice!" 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS 73 

This first, and then the busy hands of men 
Thrust the rude plow beneath the grasses green, 
Upturned the sod upon the prairie's face 
And planted there the seed which grew apace 
And fruited large, one hundred fold and more; 
Thus plenty reigned on fair Scioto's shore. 

THE DAY WE CELEBRATE. 

One hundred years have passed and we have come 
With flying banners and the roll of drum 
To glorify our city's birth and give 
Honor to those who wrought, that we might live. 
We come to celebrate a time, not near. 
Nor yet remote, when men who knew no fear 
Left home and friends to tread the wilderness. 
Braving the crafty indian, and not less 
The hunger and the pain of loneliness. 
Pathfinders all, it seemed, and yet the first 
To fix the sites of cities; men who durst 
Indulge the dream of states made great by law 
And love of order; men without a flaw 
Where meanness could creep in and spoil 
The fabric reared by their hard-handed toil. 
Nor less, by large intelligence, the light 
Which shines afar and ever grows more bright 



74 ONE HUNDRED YEARS 

As time whirls on. And we in wonder stand 
At what our fathers wrought for this fair land. 
Remote, yet near; for they our fathers were; 
And we, their sons, who now so richly share 
The gifts they gave us, still remember well 
Their forms and bearing; we their voices heard; 
From out their lips sped forth the loyal word 
For God and country. Shame be on us then, 
If v/e dare stint the honor due such men. 
1 hey trod no beaten path. Their rifles woke 
The forest's silence. Their's the axe whose stroke 
Made forests fall, whose trunks together rolled 
Were changed by burning fires to earth's rich mold. 
Amid their stumps, the straight and narrow street 
Outlined the place for town or hamlet meet. 
On either hand rude cabins quickly rose 
For shelter from the storm and night's repose. 
Full soon the throng of emigration came 
To this new land, drawn hither by the fame 
Of fertile fields and wondrous growth of corn. 
And thus "a nation in a day was born," 
With laws and statutes, courts and men of mark, 
With plans and policies, not scheming, dark. 
But open as the day, and thus the state 
Grew strong in virtue and sublimely great. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS 75 

APRIL 1ST, 1896. 

One hundred years ! now gone ! let us repair 

Where westward hills, uprising in the air, 

Invite our coming, ere the early morn 

Hath brought full light upon the day new born. 

Beneath our feet the sleeping city lies, 

Hushed in repose; not yet the time to rise. 

The city sleeps, and all the valley sleeps, 

'Tis well that peace, both town and country, 

keeps. 
At length pale verdure, with the opening day. 
Begins to show the early spring's array. 
The trees, on either side the street, from hill to 

hill 
Are marked with leaflets small, enough to fill 
The eye with sense of pleasure. The plain is full 
Of scattered groups of verdure, bright and cool. 
The trembling light a fascination feels 
As some strange ministry among it steals; 
The rising sun, an orb of splendor, comes 
In silence marching, without roll of drums 
Or voice, to tell its coming; upward still 



76 ONE HUNDRED YEARS 

It moves, in strength; its own fierce will, 
Majestic and sublime, doth lift itself on high 
And gloomy night's dark shadows quickly fly. 
The busy hordes of men flock full the streets 
Beneath the hill. The valley wide, now meets 
The brilliant sun's warm rays, and shows content 
From its broad face upturned, in smiles now blent; 
The fields of wheat, from winter's cold set free. 
Meadows and pastures wide, o'er all the lea. 
Are dressed in early green. The river sweeps 
In long embracing curves; its course it keeps 
From north to south, and then from east to west 
And backward; thus, the vale may take its rest. 
And slake its thirst; may its great fruitage bear 
And bring to man its harvest, free from care. 
One backward look to names we hold most dear. 
To Massie, Tiffin, Worthington, to clear 
The way in which to build a mighty state; 
McArthur and McDonald, not less great, 
In war's encounter, or the tales to tell 
Of what strange ventures in that day befell 
The heroes of the hour. More names we hold 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS 77 

In dear remembrance, pure and true as gold 

In fire refined; Creighton and Byrd and Belt 

As lawyers, judges, men of rare renown 

On whom there dwelt no shade of public frown. 

To them, to all, who early bore their part 

To make Ohio what she is, the soul, the heart, 

The first of states, from out the Old North West, 

Our dearest love, always the first and best. 

April 1st, 1896. 



TO , ON HER JUNE BIRTHDAY 

A SWEET rose bloomed in June, 
We chanced to pass that way; 

It bloomed from dawn 'til noon, 
From noon, 'til evening gray. 

All the long day it bloomed, 

Unconscious of its charm; 
The cold earth it illumed 

With radiance soft and warm. 

Its fragrance dulled the sense 
Of pain. Ah ! who that lives 

Can spare the recompense 
Of joy, dear nature gives. 



TO , ON HER JUNE BIRTHDAY 79 

And when this flower shall fade 

As fade it must and die; 
Alas ! how deep the shade 

That on our path will lie. 

Kind Heaven ! in tenderness, 
Oh spare the beauteous rose, 

For many days to bless 

The garden where it grows. 

June, 1896. 



THE HORIZON'S BOUND 

"A wayfarer by the sea-side on a spit of sand, with nothing to obstruct 
his view of the horizon on all sides, is enchanted; but the desire to penetrate 
beyond takes possession of him, which being in vain, he falls into reverie and 
happy dreams." 

Far out beyond the horizon dim 
Where the wide ocean's circling rim 

Doth meet the sky, 
Treasures not owned by mortal men 
Beyond imagination's ken 

Uncounted lie. 

Far to the east the blazing sun 
Begins his golden course to run 

'Mid skies aflame; 
The earth, exultant, wakes to greet 
The Lord of Day, to kiss his feet. 

And shout his name. 



THE HORIZON'S BOUND 81 

We strive to fly before the face 
Of that glad orb, but for such race 

Our strength too slight; 
Our eyes pursue, he hides afar 
Where crescent moon and evening star 

Bedeck the night. 

O, gorgeous sun ! that sinks to rest 
'Mid clouds that thou thyself hast dressed 

In cloth of gold. 
O, send some messenger to tell 
Whence comes thy radiance, whence the spell 

That doth us hold. 

We northward turn. There well we know 
Bold Ursa Major points to show 

The polar star; 
But whence the Northern lights? They shine 
But tell of naught below the line — 

That fatal bar. 



82 THE HORIZON'S BOUND 

O, keep not back, thou North: and South 
Proclaim thy wealth with thy wide mouth. 

We count it loss 
Not to have climbed thy Andes' height, 
Not to have seen with glad delight 

Thy Southern cross. 

Or East, or West, North, South, the sky 
Dips to its line of rest; we sigh 

"What lies beyond.''" 
The wave's loud voice, the wind's shrill hiss. 
The clouds with thunder filled, to this. 

Do not respond. 

We dream; strange forms around us rise, 
We stand entranced in glad surprise 

And ecstasy; 
And lost to all we know of pain, 
Amid a realm of bliss we reign, 

Our Souls, how free ! 



THE HORIZON'S BOUND 83 

We see the scenes our childhood dreamed, 
The things which to our fancy seemed 

As real as life; 
And yet without life's carlcing care, 
The struggle and perpetual war. 

The cruel strife. 

These peopled scenes, as long ago, 
Are floating 'round us, soft and slow: 

Nor voice nor sound 
Proclaim the story of their birth; 
We only know that not on earth 

Such scenes are found. 

But soon the vision fades; once more 
We strive to gaze at that far shore 

In that sweet light: 
Lost hopes, lost memories, treasures all — 
Are buried now. In vain we call; 

Again, 'tis night. 



84 THE HORIZON'S BOUND 

O, land of reverie and dream, 
How real our wild vagaries seem 

Within thy realm 1 
A joy more rare than when wide-eyed 
Awake, alert, our course we guide 

By reason's helm. 

Alas ! for us the horizon dim 
Shows now the sky's encircling rim 

The earth doth meet. 
But dreams, are intimations bright 
That some day a celestial light 

Our eyes may greet. 

Bay Head, N. J., August, 1896. 



SABBATH MORN 

Thanks ! for this day of grateful rest, 
Set time for praise and prayer; 

Come, Holy Spirit, fill my breast 
With thoughts divinely fair. 

"Things of the Spirit" — show to me 
As Thou alone cans't show. 

The joy of saintly purity. 

Glad Heaven begun below. 

Fulfill thy promise. Heavenly Guest: 
"The pure in heart shall see 

God" — over all, forever blest. 
Supreme in majesty; 

Nor less in love: All love Thou art 
This, all Thy works proclaim: 

O joy untold ! within my heart 
I feel the sacred flame. 



86 SABBATH MORN 

O, let this flame my sins consume, 
A heavenly zeal inspire; 

The darkness of my path illume, 
A never-dying fire. 

I know that when this day is done 
The curtain of the night 

Will hide the shining of the sun, 
But not that inward light. 

In sleep it still my heart shall warm 
And all my dreams impress 

With something of the gracious charm 
Of its own loveliness. 

Chillicothe, Ohio, October, 1896. 



MY LIFE 

My life is like the gleaming star 
That shoots across the sky at night; 
Whence came it from the depths afar? 
And whither doth it take its flight ? 
Its sister stars through which it fled, 
A paler radiance seem to shed; 
But who when my brief sun has set, 
Will smile the less or feel regret? 



February, 1897. 



WE ARE CONTENT— EVENING 

This quiet scene invites repose 

Bids agitation cease, 
Makes the sad heart forget its woes 

And gives the troubled peace. 

Far off, the bosom of the Lake 
By gentle winds is stirred: 

Upon the shore the wavelets break 
In murmurs scarcely heard. 

The trees, with low and curving sweep, 

Lean forward to embrace 
Their own fair forms, reflected deep 

Beneath the water's face. 



WE ARE CONTENT— EVENING 89 

The moon, the stars, the milky way. 
The calm transparent air, 

Make night more beauteous than the day, 
Oh Night ! divinely fair. 

The lake, the land, the sky, the air 
In one, are strangely blent: 

The voice they speak, the listening ear 
May catch; "We are content." 

Harbor Point, Mich., August 3rd, 1897. 



A MOTHER'S JOY 

What rapture now my bosom thrills 

As I behold my boy; 
For me, the gold from Klondyke's hills, 
Or silver from Nevada's mills 

Is but a base alloy. 

"Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone" 

My blood is in his veins; 
My being into his is thrown. 
Mother and child are only one — 
Within my heart he reigns. 

Harbor Point, Mich., August, 1897. 



MY FATHER 

My Father ! how that name recalls 
The memories of other days ! 

Like pictures hung in darkened halls 
Where sudden sunlight plays. 

In childhood's morn when bright with dew. 

Life's scenes before me lay, 
All glittering, with naught in view 

To shade the dawning day. 

Then boyhood glad, how swift it came 
And passed, e'en as the breeze 

That fitful, 'neath the sunset's flame 
Sweeps light, o'er summer seas. 

His dear calm voice stilled my unrest. 

Bade perturbation cease: 
I heard, and deep within my breast. 

There came the whisper, "peace." 



92 MY FATHER 

And when to manhood grown, I found 
The fates a web had spun; 

Another heart with mine was bound; 
Tho' twain, they were but one. 

My earlier love, still bright and warm 
For father; kept its place 

Tho' age and illness bent his form 
And paled his dear, sweet face. 

At length the day of parting came: 

Oh day of days to me ! 
How sweet his memory, dear his name, 

Bright hope ! Eternity ! 

This hope my soul sustains. One look 
To Christ, the Saviour, given: 

'Tis but a step across the brook 

Of death, and then — 'tis Heaven. 

Harbor Point, Mich., August, 1897. 



FAREWELL 

Sleep on, sweet one, thy mission's done, 
Thy crown of victory bravely won. 

Life's struggle o'er; 
Thy soul, with courage unsurpassed, 
With faith unwavering to the last, 

Its secret bore. 

Thy spirit, freed from house of dust. 
With other "Spirits of the just," 

Will hence abide 
Among them, like a shining star; 
At thy coming, "Gates ajar" 

Have opened wide. 

And for our following, thou wilt wait. 
Eager to meet us at the gate 

With joys full flood: 
By suffering, we are perfect made. 
Life's discipline our surest aid 

To all that's good. 

April 22nd, 1898. 



MOONLIGHT—IN THE COUNTRY 

The silence deepens and the drowsy night 

Enfolds the earth beneath its mantle grey; 

The fair round moon with beams of silvery white, 
Resists the darkness and prolongs the day. 

Between the shadows of the trees, there fall 

Pale sheaves of radiance; upward, grim and 
dread, 

The spectral trunks rise high; amid them all 

Come seeming whispers from the sainted dead. 

I seem to hear their voices in the air, 

I bend to hear the message they may bring; 

Is it a requiem over days of care 

Now past, or hymn of praise they sing? 

Alas ! I wait in vain. On my dull ear 
Th' inarticulate sounds fall evermore 

Like ocean surges, not distinct and near. 

But far off, breaking on a distant shore. 



MOONLIGHT— IN THE COUNTRY 95 

I turn to other thoughts, once more a child, 
Dear nature pours into my untaught ear 

A flood melodious, and my soul is wild 

And jubilant with song of loftiest cheer. 

Once more the joy of innocence is mine 
And sweet and pure in ceaseless tone 

It fills my throbbing heart with song divine; 
No other shares it, this, is all my own. 

Down by the brook, it warbles with its flow. 

O'er highest hills it winds the mellow horn. 

Within the shaded wood, in movement slow. 

In one great hymn of praise all sounds are 
borne. 

That hymn in rythmic grandeur, pure and calm. 
Is raised to Nature, and to Nature's God. 

My soul, now free, would join the sacred psalm 
And tell its holy rapture all abroad. 

Rosemoor Farm, June, 1898. 



TOIL 

Heroic toil doth move the bar 
That kept it down. So like a star ! 
Or rather, like a spirit fair. 
Eternal — God like, in the air 
It mounts, to trace in glorious lines 
The zone where Fame eternal shines. 



September, li 



AN OCTOGENARIAN'S PRAYER 



"Now I lay me down to sleep, 

I pray Thee Lord, my soul to keep. 

If I should die before I wake, 

I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take; 

And this I ask for Jesus' sake." 



"Now I lay me down to sleep." 
Gently let my eye-lids close: 

Day is done, and darkness deep 
Bids tired nature seek repose. 

"I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep." 
If Thou dost care, what need care I? 

If Thou dost watch, I well may sleep 

And say to all the world "Good bye." 



98 AN OCTOGENARIAN'S PRAYER 

"If I should die before I wake." 

It may be so. Not far the date, 

Full soon life's fretted cord must break; 
At four score years, I calmly wait. 

"I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take." 

I give Thee all. Oh ! hear my prayer ! 

Accept the gift, for Jesus' sake 

And take me to Thy mansion fair. 

Chillicothe, Ohio, February 20th, 1899. 



A DAY AT HARBOR POINT, MICH. 

MORN 

Hail rising sun ! o'er far low hills ascending, 
Thy beams outstretching westward o'er the bay, 

Whose rippled waters with thy radiance blending. 
Salute the dawning of the gladsome day. 

Earth wakes to music; jubilant its voices 

Ring out from bird and brook and verdant trees. 

While 'gainst the shore the hoarser surf rejoices. 
And full content doth whisper in the breeze. 

NOON 

Oh radiant noon ! full of the sun's fair shining. 
From earth's low bound up to the zenith's height; 

How blest upon some restful bank reclining 
To breathe such air, to bask in such a light. 

No cloud obscures the blue pellucid heaven. 
This day let sorrow flee to other lands; 

Here, kindly peace hath choicest blessings given, 
And joy brings welcome in uplifted hands. 
LofCl 



A DAY AT HARBOR POINT, MICH. 



EVENING 



The setting sun hath brought the day its ending, 
Far o'er the wave its clear reflection glows, 

The bay and sky, so like, in one seem blending. 
The twilight long doth brings it own repose. 

Yon horned moon westward is slowly sinking, 
The stars in due procession, one by one. 

In lustrous splendor, far above us twinkling, 
Proclaim their kinship to the radiant sun. 

Come gentle sleep and touch my eyes with poppies. 
Let me in dreamland for a while abide, 

Where fancy's facile brush may paint me copies 
Of this day's morn — and noon — and eventide. 

Harbor Point, Mich. July, 1899 



AN OLD MAN'S RETROSPECT 

My four score years proclaim, I am not young; 
But time, that subtil thief, hath not as yet 
Stol'n all my pleasures. Ne'er can I forget 
The haunts of childhood — the shouts that rung 
From voices jubilant — the songs we sung, 
The race — the swim — bare feet in rivulet. 
O'er which wide spreading branches now are met. 
On either side green vines were trailing hung; 
The rippling water o'er its pebbly bed 
Thrilled its own music to my careless ear 
And all unnoticed, sweetly, ere it fled 
Dropped on my heart its impress deep and dear. 
While memory holds such treasures I'll not dread. 
The winter of my age, nor deem it drear. 
1899. 



AT EIGHTY YEARS 

I AM not old but only gray; 

My white hairs do not mean decay. 

My young heart with my mind conspires 

To kindle never dying fires. 

1 am not old but only gray; 

Mere callow youth can only say 

"I'll try." While age may say " 'tis done. 

The battle fought — the victory won. 

I am not old but only gray; 
Youth's fancies on the earth may play 
Entranced, but age may reach on high 
And with its long arm touch the sky. 



AT EIGHTY YEARS 103 

I am not old but only gray; 
I waive past sorrows far away 
And bid my stricken soul be glad; 
Welcome the good — reject the sad. 

I am not old but only gray; 
Years are but mile-stones on the way; 
Fresh youth may go a quicker pace 
But staying age will win the race. 

I am not old but only gray; 
My youth held out a promise gay 
But broke it to the hope, at last 
Age sits in triumph on the past. 

I am not old but only gray; 

I sit and muse, I dream, I pray; 

I build me castles in the air 

And people them with beings fair. 

I am not old but only gray; 
Sweeter than e'er before, this day 
Are hum of bees and song of birds 
And hsping children's earliest words. 



I04 AT EIGHTY YEARS 

I am not old but only gray; 

My youth's sweet love is sweet today; 

As at the first, so now we dwell 

In love, nor wish to break the spell. 

O Father! let me not decay 
And drivel through a weary way 
Until the end that comes to all 
Shall wrap my bones in funeral pall. 

But to the last, not old, though gray, 

Give me, dear Lord, the gentle ray 

Of thy dear love; I'll all resign 

To Thee, and place my hand in Thine. 

1899. 



LITTLE TRAVERSE BAY 

(with storm on the lake) 

This breeze that now the harbor's bosom wakes 

With gentle motion, on the bay- 
Has wider, wilder scope, and ceaseless breaks 

The wave, where whitecaps roll and play. 

And far beyond the head-lands, on the main, 
The same wind, stronger in its might. 

Doth take the voice of storm; Ah! not in vain! 
The waters rise to mountain height. 

They fiercely dash upon the shelving shore, 
Then backward roll, to gather force 

To break more strongly; while yet more and more 
They beat the land without remorse. 



io6 LITTLE TRAVERSE BAY 

Their source, the depth far out, profound and dark, 
Where wrecks on wrecks lie deeply stored; 

Where fortunes slumber, and men's bones lie stark 
Amid the stillness, unexplored. 

Stillness, abysmal! vain the weary stretch 

Of fancy free to count the cost 
Of treasures here long buried, or to fetch 

To sight one image of the lost. 

We wait for clearer skies and smoother seas 
When storms are o'er; when we shall sail 

Serenely, with a lightsome flowing breeze. 
Above the wrecks and bodies pale. 

Harbor Point, Mich., August, 1899. 



THE BURIAL 

Bring flowers, for the sainted dead to wear, 
Entwine them deftly in her thin grey hair: 
A rose on her breast and a Hly fair, 

For her adorning. 
Her spirit has taken its heavenward flight. 
To dwell with the angels and saints in white; 
To us, her going is darkness of night. 

To her, 'tis morning. 

Ye, bearers, move slowly, bringing her bier, 

Step lightly and softly, set it down here; 

This grave will be hallowed, by treasure so dear, 

For her, it's waiting. 
We lower her coffin down to its place 
Beneath the green sod, whose closing embrace 
Shall shut out the light. For her, through God's 
grace. 

The day is breaking. 



io8 THE BURIAL 

With her, when living, her charm and delight 
Were ferns and blossoms in colors bedight. 
Among which she moved from morn until night, 

And never grew weary. 
'Tis fit to surround her, in her last sleep. 
With what she loved best; let these her watch keep 
Through silence of night, as the long hours creep, 

Ever so dreary. 

Let her grave be festooned in every line. 
With branches of cedar, hemlock and pine; 
While fern leaves and flowers in beauty combine 

To make of this mound. 
The loveliest spot on that beautiful hill 
Where th' dead sleep in silence, so deep and so still, 
At last, we trust fondly, free from all ill. 

To rise from the ground. 

Chillicothe, Ohio, June 9th, 1900. 



POPPIES 

The poppies shone in various bloom 
In rainbow colors bright and fair. 

So warmly brilliant, left no room 
For other radiance to share. 

So proud their leaves abroad were spread. 
So high their heads aloft they bore. 

Disdainful, haughty, as if dread 

Of death could never haunt them more. 

Again I looked, the stems were bent. 
To earth their blossoms drooping, fell; 

No more toward heaven their bloom is sent, 
No more we feel their witching spell. 

So I have seen the human flower. 
So loved, in beauty shine supreme, 

Then droop, and die; Oh! sad the hour 
That robs me of my love's sweet dream. 

July, 1901. 



LOSS OF SIGHT 

To Miss 

Sometimes I think of thee, as losing sight; 
And then my fancy takes a sweeping flight 
On wing outstretched, among the sons of men 
Who gained renown world-wide by voice or pen, 
Yet knew not the propitious light of day 
To guide or cheer them on their darksome way. 

Prophets and seers, in darkness wrapt sublime, 
Saw far adown the lengthened track of time; 
And poets rare, all nature's beauty lost 
To their closed eyes, saw yet a mighty host 
Of seraph forms, and landscapes far more bright 
Than seeing eyes behold, by day or night. 

But thou canst see, tho' dim the vision be. 
Somewhat of earth's great glory. Still for thee 
Sunshine and shadow come and go, and flit 
Alternate gold and dark. Thy path is lit 
With love undying, a serener light. 
Which glows and quickens in its onward flight. 



LOSS OF SIGHT m 

Some household duties guide thy willing feet. 
Some errand finds thee on the open street; 
A call for some good deed doth reach thine ear. 
And quick response is thine to lift or cheer. 
Thy seat is humbly filled in place of prayer; 
Who else is absent, thou art always there. 

I see about thee gathering throngs of friends. 
Whose voices soft, a song of gladness sends 
Into thy heart, all open wide and quick 
To take thy joy of such companionship. 
Among that throng I fain would come, and bold, 
Lay claim to thy regard for one so old. 

Let not my age bespeak me cold and stern. 
For yet my heart is warm. Within me burn 
Undying fires. For thee the flame doth glow 
With youthful heat. My pulses are not slow, 
But quick, when fond emotion fills my breast 
With thoughts of thy dear friendship long pos- 
sessed. 

Harbor Point, Mich. July, 23rd, 1901. 



THE STORM 

The lightnings flash, the thunder roars, 
The rain in torrents madly pours. 

The wind blows high; 
'Tis night ! one moment quivers bright, 
The next is darkness' self; no light 

Illumes the sky. 

The noise of waves from out the bay. 
As mad the waters bear their way 

Against the shore. 
Make loud the tumult, and the flash 
Of lightning shows the water's dash 

Only the more. 

A quivering light repeated oft 
Reveals the clouds now borne aloft 

To furthest skies; 
Below, the land and wave are bright 
With sudden splendor, and the light 

In darkness dies. 



THE STORM 

The wind in deeper howl bemoans 
The darkness, and the air now groans 

As if in pain: 
How sharp the pang! how deep and strong 
Its throes in fury roll along, 

Beneath the rain! 

Earth shakes amid the wild display. 
The air and water hold full sway, 

While man before 
It all, stands gazing on the scene, 
As if such things had never been, 

Nor would be more. 

Harbor Point, Mich., July, 1901. 



"3 



OUR GOLDEN WEDDING 

THE VOYAGE OF MARRIED LIFE 

Wilt step into my boat, he said; 

The maiden fair stood by his side: 
With cheeks suffused with blushes red, 

And trembling lips, she thus replied: 

Pray whither doth the voyage tend ? 

And is the river deep and wide ? 
Do fair blue skies above it bend, 

And some calm sea await its tide ? 

Or doth the river find its bed 
Amid a rough and rocky way. 

While dark clouds gather over head 
No sun to cheer it with its ray ? 



OUR GOLDEN WEDDING 115 

To this the youth, touched by her fears, 
Content to meet or pain or bliss. 

If haply she through coming years 
Might share his lot, gave answer, this: 

I know not what may hap. God reigns. 
And under Him, I hold the oar; 

Why think of losses, or of gains. 

The soft wind's breath, or tempest's roar? 

Step in, nor doubt that future years 

Shall bring due strength whate'er betide, 

Let hope prevail and calm thy fears 
And take thy place, close at my side. 

She gave her hand and left the shore; 

And so two lives were joined in one 
For all life's journey: never more 

Shall these two part, — till life is done. 



ii6 OUR GOLDEN WEDDING 

The stream that bore them, speeding fast 
Relentless held its tortuous way, 

Sometimes through golden sands it passed 
With children on its banks at play. 

Sometimes the jagged crags' embrace 
(Their summits rising tall and gray,) 

Kept out the light, save one dim space. 
Far upward, where it still was day. 

Sometimes the day resplendent shone. 
Nor less the splendor of the night; 

The stars with radiance fair looked down. 
The moon, with still serener light. 

But oft the gathered clouds o'er head 
Shut off the heavenly vision fair. 

The thickening gloom around them spread 
And seemed to darken all the air. 



OUR GOLDEN WEDDING 117 

Without a glimmering star to guide, 
It seemed as if all hope had fled. 

But no ! that star doth still abide; 

When hope doth die, then all is dead. 

The clouds dispersed, and broader flows 
The stream on which the pair embarked: 

A quiet bay invites repose. 

Its shores with radiant beauty marked. 

. The trees, in Autumn foliage clad, 

The grass ne'er showed a greener sod; 
All Nature's thousand voices glad. 
Unite in songs of praise to God. 

Here let our travelers rest awhile. 
As all the past doth pass review; 

For this, a tear — for that, a smile. 

For all, glad thanks, devout and true. 

Chillicothe, Ohio, October i, 1895. 



MAY 7 - i9ol 



IViAY 7 iiJU2 
MAY 7 190? 



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